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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834836">As Fast As She Can</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life'>Duck_Life</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jean and Maddie Are Twins AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Comicverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming Out, Friendship/Love, Gen, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Original Five, Team as Family, Teen Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:02:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean gets used to her new normal as a student at Xavier's, one of the founding members of a team called the X-Men. It's a good thing her sister is always just a phone call away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jean Grey &amp; Madelyne Pryor, Jean Grey &amp; Scott Summers, Jean Grey/Wanda Maximoff (one-sided)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jean and Maddie Are Twins AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1474736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>As Fast As She Can</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jean is the Professor’s first pupil. It’s not exactly a fact she’s proud of— after all, she was only there at the mansion because she couldn’t control her powers. In fact, sometimes it felt like they were controlling her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’s old enough to attend Xavier’s full-time, it feels like a big accomplishment. She is stable enough to be around people now. She is </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She can have friends her own age instead of relying on the Professor and her parents— and the rare letter or phone call from Maddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, it might have been nice to have at least one other girl on the team. But she gets along with these guys pretty fast. Bobby is constantly cracking jokes, but it’s not hard for her to pick up on the things he’s insecure about— even without using her telepathy. Hank talks like no one she’s ever met and invents things she can barely comprehend. Warren plays it cool but she picks up pretty quick when things bother him, finds herself wanting to protect him from the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s Slim— or Scott, he tells her one day in the garage. Scott Summers. Scott is weird and brusque and really good at Scrabble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s amazing. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Even though she’s spending so much time training with the guys, Jeannie does manage to make female friends. Sue Storm takes her under her wing for a week or so— more a mentor than a friend, but Jean counts it. She hangs out with Zelda and Vera at the Coffee-a-Go-Go sometimes, and they teach her about poetry and philosophy and politics. Scott’s brother Alex brings his adoptive sister Haley to visit one time, and she and Jean spend hours treading water in the pool and swapping stories about the Summerses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s Wanda. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Wanda starts out as an enemy and quickly becomes Jean’s friend. They see movies together and go shopping and spend hours gossiping about Hank, Warren, Bobby, Scott and Wanda’s brother, Pietro. Wanda is magic, really magic, and sometimes she makes Jean feel a little bit magic, too. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They’re both lying bellies-down on Wanda’s bed, propped up on their elbows while Wanda flips through a magazine and points to accessories and articles of clothing and brands of lip gloss she’d like to have. Jean floats her can of soda from the floor to her lips, sips, and returns it to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at her,” Wanda says, jabbing her finger at the page she’s flipped to. “Isn’t she </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” The model is dressed in a trendy overcoat beneath a cloudy London sky, her lavender hair blowing behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jean breathes. “She’s totally gorgeous.” But she’s not looking at the magazine. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Warren catches Jean when she’s checking her lipstick in the foyer mirror. “Off to see Miss Scarlet?” he teases, leaning against one wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Oh, yes,” Jean says, smoothing down a flyaway hair. She turns to look at Warren himself instead of just his reflection. “Hey, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warren tilts his head to the side. “Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘am I’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “Well, now that she’s not dating me, she’s got more time to spend with you.” He doesn’t sound jealous or annoyed. He’s just saying it like a statement of fact, but it makes Jean’s ears heat up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what? I was alone with you four boys for a long time. It’s nice to finally have a girlfriend.” She stutters. “A girl… friend. A girl who is my friend. A friend-girl.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can see that,” Warren says, smiling at her. “You kids have fun. Don’t run into anymore mole men.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean heads out for the evening, feeling as though she’s sneaking out to commit some kind of crime. She wishes she knew what it was.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Bobby said that?” Maddie laughs over the phone. Jean tries to picture her sitting on her kitchen counter, legs swinging, the phone cord draped over one shoulder. If she feels safe using the phone then her father must be out for the day, not expected back for hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s such a goof,” Jean says. “I thought Scott was going to ban him from training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Training,’” Maddie repeats under her breath. “I still can’t believe you’re a mutant superhero, Jeannie. And I’m stuck studying for the SAT.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” Jean says, fidgeting with a thread on her sleeve. It’s not that her powers make her uncomfortable, or that Maddie’s actually envious. Telepathy-over-the-phone isn’t foolproof, but Jean’s formed enough of a psychic bond to know that Maddie’s being genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jean doesn’t actually wish Maddie had powers. But… it would be nice if she were </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is Scott?” Maddie asks, and Jean can hear the teasing note in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine,” she says. “We had a cookout last week and he got way too involved in lawn darts. Hank had to pick him up and carry him into the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God,” Maddie caws, laughing. Jean’s struck suddenly by how lonely she must be— Maddie never talks about kids from the orphanage anymore. She’s homeschooled with only her cold and distant father for company, getting to know all of Jean’s friends through these conversations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you can’t come visit?” she asks. But she knows the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maddie’s quiet for a moment. “I wish I could, Jeannie,” she says. “I wish I could.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Warren is charming and beautiful and vibrant, and as much as Jean loves him like a friend, she doesn’t like him the way he likes her. It’s something that fills her with guilt and shame and doesn’t seem to bother Warren at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of all the guys, she’s drawn most to Scott. Scott is logical. Scott is determined. Scott is moderately handsome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott is safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could so easily see herself falling for Scott Summers. If she just wishes very hard, maybe she can make it happen. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jeannie’s life quietly falls apart one night. She’s sleeping over at Wanda’s. (Warren seriously mother-hens her on her way out the door, somehow convinced that Magneto is going to crash the slumber party.) They pop Jiffy Pop and pore over magazines and comic books. Wanda tries to curl Jean’s hair, which insists on remaining flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point after midnight, when the two of them are sitting on the floor in front of Wanda’s bed listening to Joni Mitchell crooning from Wanda’s record player, Jean makes a decision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns and looks at Wanda, her distinct features absolutely gorgeous in profile. And Jean leans over and presses her lips against Wanda’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss lasts approximately two seconds. Wanda pulls away from her with a startled little gasp. “Jean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Jean says, her face burning as bright red as her hair. She looks down. “Sorry, I don’t know what I…” She chances a glance at Wanda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanda doesn’t look angry or disgusted, just surprised. She says, “It’s… fine, just. I’m not… like that, Jean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And until now, Jean hadn’t even considered there might be a “that” to be like. She didn’t have a word for the way she felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just remembered,” Jean mumbles, dazed, “I told the Professor I’d do some extra training in the Danger Room tonight. I, um, I have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jean, wait,” Wanda says, scrambling to grab her wrist. Jean jerks away and stands up suddenly, almost banging her head into a lamp. “Jean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine, I just, I really need to go,” Jean says. “I’ll, um, I’ll just call one of the guys to come and get me. It’s fine.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Warren arrives to pick her up in the Rolls Royce. He pulls up in front of the house and pops the door open for her. Jean says goodbye to Wanda and climbs into the passenger’s seat, praying Warren can’t see that her hands are trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t comment, doesn’t say anything, just drives. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They stop at a Waffle House on the way back to the mansion. Warren continues to not say anything, not question her. All he does is get the door for her and ask her what she’d like to order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re sitting in a booth. It’s not peak midnight-diner hours yet, just a little bit shy. There are patrons scattered through the restaurant. Doowop drones from a jukebox in the corner. “I didn’t think Richie Rich ate at Waffle House,” Jean says once the quiet between them gets to be too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comfort food,” Warren says. “All the money in the world can’t buy you the kind of comfort you can get from a bowl of grits and some hot chocolate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Jean eats grits and drinks hot chocolate and doesn’t talk about Wanda or lip gloss ads or what it means that she might be “like that.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>A week later, Scott asks her on a date and Jean says yes without even thinking. Yes, she needs this. She needs to be like this, and not Like That. And besides. Scott is nice. Scott is handsome. Scott, for all his quirks and neuroses, is so, so easy to love. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Wanda and her brother join up with the Avengers. Most of the guys don’t seem to care one way or another, but for some reason, it feels like a betrayal to Jean. They’re mutants, aren’t they? Why not join the X-Men? (She wonders if it’s because of her.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t need them,” Warren says, skipping a stone across the lake. Jean watches it bounce three times before sinking beneath the surface. It’s sunny today, and Warren’s wings are free and unbound, gleaming white in the light. “Just us five, Jeannie, that’s all we need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about that Banshee guy?” She tosses a stone and gets four skips, but she’s using telekinesis to cheat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warren grins. “I guess he could buy us liquor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect.” Jean leans back onto the grass, looking up at the perfect blue of the sky. She tries to imagine the Professor roaming these grounds as a child. It’s hard to picture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warren stretches out beside her. A stray feather tickles Jean’s nose, and she bats it away. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Warren brought a friend to Bobby’s birthday party,” Jean says, twirling the phone cord around her finger as she fills Maddie in on all the latest goings-on at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. “Her name’s Candy. I think Warren is totally smitten.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she pretty?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gorgeous,” Jean confirms. “The two of them could be on magazine covers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, so could we,” Maddie points out. “National Enquirer or something. ‘Twins separated at birth! Read their exclusive story!’” Jean laughs. “Do you… do you talk to Warren and the guys about me? Like, as much as you talk to me about them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean picks at a thumbnail while she considers that. “Not as much,” she says. “They know about you. They know about my older brothers and sisters, too. It’s just… I don’t know, Maddie. I miss you. Talking to them about you makes me sad, so I don’t do it that much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I understand that,” Maddie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talk to Scott about you a lot, though,” Jean says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maddie laughs. Despite the distance, Jean almost feels like her sister could be sitting right next to her. “Scott? The bossy guy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not so bad,” Jean says, smiling. “Actually, he and I are… sort of… dating.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maddie’s outburst is so loud that Jean nearly loses her grip on the phone. “You didn’t tell me that </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Maddie demands. “Jeannie… Jeannie, lemme get this straight, you told me about Warren’s new arm candy before you told me you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span> Scott? That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>above the fold</span>
  </em>
  <span> material, Jean Elaine Grey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jean laughs. “It’s still pretty new, I don’t know, it’s all new to me. He’s really sweet. And his brother… they were separated for a long time, like us. So he gets it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He gets it, huh?” Maddie says. “You know, that’s—” She cuts herself off. “Jean, my dad just got home. I gotta go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Maddie says. The sharp change in her tone makes Jean’s stomach sour. She sounds so scared. “Bye. Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too,” Jean says, but Maddie’s already hung up. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to Coffee-a-Go-Go?” Jean asks, surprised as Scott leads her past their most familiar haunt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We go there all the time,” Scott says, his hand warm in hers. “I wanted to take you somewhere special.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somewhere special” turns out to be a little Italian restaurant that makes Jean think of “Lady and the Tramp.” She almost suggests they share a piece of Scott’s spaghetti and recreate the famous scene, but he seems so fidgety and nervous she decides against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not their first date, but it’s definitely their fanciest. Jean has to place her napkin on her lap and double-check to be sure she’s using the right fork. “How’d you know about this place?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Scott says, looking up from his pasta. “Oh, uh… Warren told me about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean smiles. “One of these days, we should be the ones introducing Warren to new experiences,” she says conspiratorially. “Like McDonald’s. Or Dunkin Donuts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you even imagine him eating at McDonald’s?” Scott says, grinning. “He’d get two bites in and start… what’s that thing birds do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, regurgitating it?” Jean says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like when they feed their young, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean cackles. Talking about Warren is like a buffer. Neither of them has to be nervous about eating together in a fancy restaurant when they can joke about Warren being a clueless, rich birdman. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jean sleeps across the hall from Bobby, so she’s the first to notice when the temperature abruptly drops. The cold wakes her up, draws her out of dreams about wings and wishes and Wanda. At first, she just draws her covers tighter around her shoulders and tries to go back to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then it occurs to her that the unnatural cold isn’t just a problem with the furnace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puts on her slippers and robe and steps out into the hall. The slick patch of ice spreading across the floor confirms her suspicions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobby?” Jean says quietly, knocking on his door. “Are you okay?” No answer. “Bobby, I’m coming in.” She twists the knob and steps inside his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like something out of Rankin-Bass. Snow and ice everywhere, icicles dripping from the ceiling. And she was just in here yesterday to steal one of his towels, so she knows this is all very recent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby is huddled in the corner of his room, all snowballed out. He’s shaking, even though the cold can’t be affecting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jean says, holding her hands out in front of her. “Bobby? It’s me, Jean. What’s going on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes look different in his snowy-ice form, but it’s still Bobby. “Jean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” She crouches down near him, tugging her robe tighter against the chill. “What’s going on? Were you dreaming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he shakes his head. “Can’t dream,” he says. “Can’t get to sleep. Just… in my head, it’s like… everything, all of it, all these thoughts keep tumbling around and around and around like one of those, jeez, one of those bingo ball spinners. Over and over. You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. She knows. “Sounds like anxiety. And there’s a lot of things to—” She’s only reaching out to put a hand on his cold shoulder, but he flinches away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t read my mind</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean sits back, stunned. Her friends all know about her telepathic abilities, and she’s used them on enemies before, but she would never (intentionally) probe into a friend’s mind without permission. Sure, at the beginning of her training there were times when she struggled to control her powers. (Especially when she thought about Annie.) But they’ve been together, all five of them, for over a year now. Jean knows control. Jean knows boundaries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” she promises. “But do you… do you want to talk to me? I’m a good listener. Or if you want I can just sit here with you and you don’t have to tell me anything. That’s okay, too.” Bobby says nothing. Snowflakes stick to Jean’s eyelashes. “Bobby, you know I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prove it,” he says suddenly. “Kiss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t love you like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Me neither.” Bobby’s still shaking. “I don’t think I can.” She’s not totally sure what that’s supposed to mean. “I mean I tried. With Zelda. And a million imaginary girls, and I… I c-can’t, I don’t think I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>built </span>
  </em>
  <span>right, Jeannie, or like, like, I’m broken. It’s all wrong. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> all wrong. Even if I say all the right things, I can’t make myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> something that isn’t there, and I can’t… I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> feeling all the things that </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> there, no matter how hard I try.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean gets it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a strange feeling, realizing you aren’t the only one in the house going through the same shit. Her brain feels like it’s pounding in her skull, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like That Like That Like That</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobby.” Impulsively, she clutches at his hands. It’s like grabbing handfuls of snow. She hangs on tight. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby stares at her with his ice-eyes. “You’re… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does Scott know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says. “Nobody knows. I mean… I guess Wanda knows. I kind of tried to kiss her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeannie…” The room warms up a few degrees. “So you’re… okay. Wow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t promise you I have all the answers,” Jean says. “Or… any answers. But… if you’re broken, then I’m broken, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby’s answer is quick. “You’re not broken.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” she says. “Say that to yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once, Bobby actually listens to her. “I’m not broken.” The room around them gets a little bit warmer. “I’m not broken.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jean says, smiling at this stranger that has become her brother. “No, you’re not.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Telling Bobby her big secret makes Jean a tiny bit more comfortable with herself. Not quite comfortable enough to tell anybody else, but comfortable enough to think the actual word “lesbian.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything about it the next time she talks to Maddie, but she thinks she might want to. To be honest, she’d feel more comfortable telling Maddie than telling any of her other siblings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s something else nagging at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She probably needs to not be dating Scott. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He takes her out for a picnic next to the lake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have something I want to tell you,” Scott says, rearing himself up. He sets his cup of lemonade carefully on the rock beside the picnic blanket, balancing it. “Something I really need to say to you, and I want you to hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean doesn’t mean to, really, she doesn’t, but she picks up traces of his thoughts like she’s overhearing a record player in another room. And she panics. “Oh, Scott… maybe, um, no, I don’t think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I mean is… I-I have something I really need to tell you,” she splutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of looking upset, Scott just smiles more, so earnest and honest it damn near breaks her heart. “We could say it at the same time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we really, really can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts counting down. “3, 2…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t see his eyes, of course, but it’s clear that he’s completely thrown by that. Silently, Jean counts down from 10, waiting for Scott to react. To move. To say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Scott says, “You’re gay.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jean says. "I understand if you hate me—" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't," Scott says frankly. "Hate you? Jean, I just told you I loved you. That's still true."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to apologize. Really." Scott leans back on the palms of his hands, looking out at the skyline. "Sure, this isn't exactly how I imagined our picnic going, but… you're still Jean."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears eat away at the corners of her vision. "I do love you, Scott," Jean says. "Not the way you wanted, I know, but I do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't think there's a wrong or right way to love," Scott says. "You're my friend. You're my teammate. I'm glad you felt like you could trust me with, uh, with this. I love you. I think… we probably shouldn't be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… probably a good move, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott turns to look at her, and it doesn’t take a telepath to feel the waves of sincerity and affection radiating off of him. Jean’s imagined coming out to Scott a thousand different ways, and none of them went quite like this. “Can I hug you?” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean nods, and then Scott scoots across the picnic blanket to wrap his arms around her. She hugs him back, letting her lingering stress and relief turn into tears. “I love you, Scott,” she says again, secure in knowing that he knows what she means. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I you, Jean.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jean wakes in the middle of the night to a spearlike surge of panic and fear surging through her mind. She recognizes the thought patterns immediately, though she can’t make out any distinct messages— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Madelyne</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Scott,” Jean whispers, shaking him awake. Scott’s a light sleeper, and within seconds he’s up and alert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean lets out a shaky breath, tries to keep her voice from wavering. “It’s Maddie, my sister. She’s in trouble.” Borrowed fear and shared pain roils around in her skull. Whatever’s happening to Maddie, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Can… can you fly us to Nebraska?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re the only two in the house right now. Bobby’s visiting his parents, and the Professor took Hank and Warren with him to help a friend in Canada. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the middle of the night. We have no idea what we’re going into,” Scott reasons. “We should just wait until tomorrow, and then maybe we can convince Professor X to send the whole team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it can’t wait,” Jean says. “I have to be there </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something’s wrong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you keep saying no, I’m just going to borrow your piloting knowledge and go myself,” she says definitively, giving him a firm look. “But I’d really appreciate you being there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott shakes his head, more a sign of frustration than of telling her no. “It doesn’t make sense from a tactical standpoint for the two of us to think we can take on whatever Madelyne is dealing with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right,” Jean says. “But what if it were Alex? What would you do?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Scott’s in the cockpit of the Blackbird within ten minutes. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>As soon as they touch down in Omaha, Scott’s demeanor changes. His face looks as white as the moon above them, and his shoulders keep shrinking in. “Scott?” Jean mumbles, putting a hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maddie’s thoughts are drowning out any other stimuli for the most part, so Jean’s having trouble getting a read on Scott other than abstract feelings of foreboding, deja vu and nauseating doubt. “Scott?” Jean says again, louder. It’s like shaking him out of a daydream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Sorry,” he says. He straightens out his shoulders but the color doesn’t return to his face— and that aura of dread and familiarity doesn’t leave him. “Let’s go.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jean wants to tear the front door off its hinges, but Scott convinces her to be a little stealthier. She eases open the lock with telekinesis. The door creaks when it opens. Jean tries to zero in on where in the house Maddie is, but her terror is bouncing off the walls, psychic echoes completely disorienting Jean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way,” Scott says, taking the lead and guiding them down a dark hallway. He’s moving almost as if he knows the building, knows exactly where to go. Jean doesn’t waste time questioning it, she just follows him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reach a bedroom on the east side of the first floor— a plain white door, slightly ajar. Jean steps inside and knows immediately that this must be Maddie’s bedroom. It’s empty right now, the bedcovers thrown back as if Maddie had suddenly woken and run from the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A writing desk pushed against the single window is covered in paper cootie catchers, all blank. Jean remembers teaching Maddie how to fold them at camp. She shivers. Scott leans down to pick up a stuffed bear that has fallen on the floor. He sets it back on the bed and turns around. “If she’s not in her room—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a crash from outside the bedroom door. Jean follows Scott back into the hall, trying to convince herself that this is just like any mission, that they’re X-Men and they can take on anything. It’s not working. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door at the end of the hall swings open. Jean had assumed it was a closet or bathroom, but now that she can see down the dark stairwell she realizes it’s the door to a basement. Her curiosity about the layout of the house dies when she sees her sister, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jean!” Maddie gasps, clambering up the last few steps and running the length of the hall. She throws her arms around Jean, sobbing with mixed relief and panic. “What are you— how did you— ?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your father, right?” Jean says, stepping forward to put Maddie behind her. “We’re getting you out of here, Maddie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to go now, he’s…” Maddie says, but her words die in her throat. A shadow ascends the stairs from the basement. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jean has never actually asked Maddie what her father looks like (even though— or maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span>— he’s probably her biological father, too.) She always pictured a nondescript man, dark-haired and faceless. Like a parent in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Peanuts</span>
  </em>
  <span> cartoon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wah, wah wah wah. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only now that she finally gets a good look at Maddie’s father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks like he stepped out of a nightmare. The man is tall and pale, with a cloak of black tendrils that melts into the darkness behind him. His lips are too red, and when he smiles he has too many teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ,” Jean mumbles, tightening her grip on Maddie’s arm. “Let’s go, we have to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Scott won’t budge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t this a surprise?” Maddie’s father leers, looking from the twins to Scott. His smile makes Jean feel like something cold is slithering through her brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a matter of seconds, Scott has become a complete stranger. He’s backed himself against the wall, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Lefty, I’m sorry,” he stammers, looking smaller than Jean’s ever seen him. Scott Summers, leader of the X-Men, has vanished. In his place is a terrified kid in red glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott,” Jean says, putting herself between him and the looming spectre of Maddie’s father. “Hey. We have to go, come on.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and he flinches, hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t,” he says, his voice broken. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll listen, I promise, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean watches on in horror. She can practically feel Maddie’s father’s smirk on the back of her neck. Desperate, she looks up at Maddie, who’s standing frozen a few feet away. “I’ve never seen him like this,” Jean says. “I don’t know how to… we have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Maddie’s father is at the top of the stairs, watching them as if he’s observing a play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal with my dad,” Maddie says, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll try and get Scott back outside.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maddie doesn’t have any powers and Scott doesn’t look like he’s anywhere close to combat-ready. And Maddie’s father is just watching on with glee. Jean nods, and, even though it hurts to do so, she turns away from Scott. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maddie’s father stands silhouetted in the doorframe, looking mildly amused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello, little girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But the voice is in her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck it. Two can play at that game. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave him ALONE</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she projects up at the too-tall man in the shadows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spirited, aren’t you?” the man says aloud. “I’ve long suspected I chose to keep the wrong sister.” Behind her, Jean can hear Maddie speaking softly to Scott. “I was pleasantly surprised to realize dear Madelyne had </span>
  <em>
    <span>found</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. She saved me quite a bit of trouble.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean marches forward and throws a telekinetic wave toward him. His cloak twitches back, but he remains standing, seemingly unaffected. “You’ll never get near her again,” Jean says, hoping she sounds at all intimidating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know who— or </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>— this man is, but she knows she needs to keep Scott and Maddie safe. Right now, that’s all that matters. Her own fears, her own connection to the man, aren’t important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Maddie’s father says, sounding almost bored. “Madelyne has served her purpose. She got you here— and Mr. Summers, too, what a treat.” Scott </span>
  <em>
    <span>whimpers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it’s one of the most awful sounds Jean’s ever heard. “Didn’t you ever wonder about all the questions Maddie asked you about being a ‘mutant superhero’? About your friends? She’s been my lovely little spy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jean knows, </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> it isn’t true. But doubt creeps across her mind like a fog. Her concentration breaks. Maddie’s father draws closer. “No…” Jean says, trying to push him away. It’s like trying to stop a semi with a gust of wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Maddie yells, “Jean, duck!” She drops down. The next thing she knows, a familiar red glow covers everything she can see. There’s a loud cracking sound as Scott’s optic blast rips a hole in the ceiling, sending chunks of wood and plaster careening downward. Maddie’s father shouts as he drops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Maddie is pulling her out of the dust and running outside as fast as she can, hanging onto Scott with her other hand. They dash across the lawn and clamber back into the Blackbird. Scott has his glasses back on. Maddie and Scott are both covered in dust and debris, which means Jean probably is, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jean says, crouching in front of Scott. He has one hand on his ruby quartz glasses, like he’s prepared to let loose at any second. “I think…” She looks at him. There’s no way he can fly in this condition. “I think I need to borrow your piloting knowledge after all.” Scott doesn’t say anything, just keeps breathing shallowly. “Is… is that okay?” Still nothing. “Please. Yes or no, Scott.” Finally, finally, he nods. Jean lets out a sigh. “Thanks, Scott.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gets what she needs from Scott’s mind— trying as hard as she can to move past the jumbled horrors in there and </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> pluck out the piloting skills— and then she slides into the cockpit. They’re in the air again in no time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, finally, when they’re far enough away from Omaha and Maddie’s father and whatever horrible memories that place held for Scott, Jean feels like she can really breathe again. Her muscles relax. She unclenches her jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maddie, who has been sitting beside Scott and speaking to him gently, comes to sit beside Jean. The night sky races past them through the windows. “I’m so sorry,” Maddie says quietly, staring straight ahead. “I didn’t want to put you in danger. I didn’t want… I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Jean says. In her head, Maddie’s father’s words echo— </span>
  <em>
    <span>my lovely little spy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jean shakes herself, like she can shake away everything that’s happened tonight. “Is… is he a mutant?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she says. “He’s… something. He’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for sure. And he’s…” Maddie sighs and taps the side of her temple. “He gets in your head. Makes you think things that aren’t your own thoughts, makes you forget things. To tell you the truth…” She shudders. “This is the first time I feel like I’ve been able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> clearly since that summer at camp.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Evil? A monster, like Maddie said? The physical embodiment of everything Jean has dreaded becoming since the emergence of her psychic abilities? “Why did he even let you </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span> to camp?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Needed me out of the way, I think,” Maddie says. “He’s always running experiments on people… kids. I don’t know if he’s a mutant, but he’s fascinated by mutants. That’s what I think he meant, you know, about choosing the wrong sister. He needed a mutant, and he gambled on me. And he was wrong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean reaches across the cockpit and grabs her hand, squeezes tight. Maddie clutches at her hand. Tears run through the dust covering her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> this whole time and I couldn’t say anything about it,” she says, shaking her head. “Like there was something </span>
  <em>
    <span>choking</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. Like… it would all just float out of my brain every time I tried to focus on it… his lab, his experiments. The goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>orphanage</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott grew up in an orphanage,” Jean remembers. “God, I made him come with me… I had no idea…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he had any idea, either,” Maddie says. “Like I said. My father… he gets in your head. Makes you forget.” Suddenly, she swivels her head toward Jean. “Sometimes he makes you see things that aren’t really there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m real,” Jean says, looking over at her twin, her sister, her friend. “I promise, Maddie, I’m real. I’m real. And we’re safe. And I’m not letting go.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Scott finally starts talking after they land back in Westchester. “Jean, I’m so sorry,” he says, following her out of the hangar. “I… I don’t know why I couldn’t…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she says, reaching out. She wants to hug him, wants to put her hands on his shoulders and ground him, but the last time she tried that he flinched away. Scott gets the message and lurches forward, hugging her tight, his hands gripping at her jacket. “We’re home. It’s okay. We’re safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was there. When I was a kid,” Scott says, the words tumbling out of him. “Nathan. Dr. Milbury. He controlled… </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sent Alex away. Isolated me… Jesus Christ.” Jean rubs her hand in circles on his back. “Only I didn’t remember any of this until we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It all came back, soon as I saw him… I froze up. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jean says fiercely, stepping away so she can look at him. “Look— we’re all okay. We got Maddie out of there. Everything worked out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s still out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. Yeah,” Jean says. “So’s Magneto. And the Blob. And Sauron. You know, we just… we just keep getting up and doing what we’re doing. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott breathes in deeply, and then he nods. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we’re superheroes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Right. Because we’re superheroes.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Maddie left Nebraska with nothing but the pajamas on her back. Jean gives her a fresh pair of pajamas so she can toss the plaster-covered ones in the laundry chute. “Is your professor going to be mad you brought me back here?” Maddie asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean shrugs. “Maybe. Don’t really care. We kept Mastermind here as a hat rack for a while, and you’re a lot better than him. Besides,” she says, grinning, “as long as you and I are never in the same room at the same time, how’s he gonna know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After this nightmare of a night, Maddie finally laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s plenty of empty rooms,” Jean says, “you can—” But Maddie has already crawled under the covers of Jean’s bed. “That works too.” Jean finishes changing into pajamas and flops down in her bed, wrapping an arm loosely around her sister. “Goodnight, Maddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared I’m going to wake up and still be back there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No chance,” Jean says. “I told you. I’m not letting go.” Maddie snuggles closer to her. It’s past four in the morning. They’re probably going to sleep til noon. It doesn’t really matter. Jean uses her powers to switch the light off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, Jean whispers, “Maddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she says, “for getting through to Scott when I couldn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Maddie says. “I knew where he was. I’ve been there for a long time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll never be there again,” Jean swears. “Neither of you.” Maybe it’s not a promise she can keep, but she makes it anyway. Maddie is her sister. Scott is her best friend. And Nathan, or Dr. Milbury, or Lefty, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoever</span>
  </em>
  <span> he is, he’s not getting near them ever again. Not if she can help it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence for a moment. Then— "Jean? What happens now?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now… we go to sleep," Jean says. "And we'll wake up and it will be tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What happens tomorrow?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jean smooths a hand over Maddie's hair. "We'll find out when we get there."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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